Sefetlho: painful game brought to life
Spira Tlhankane | Friday May 26, 2017 15:46
Even scientists have established that endorphins that are released in painful experiences are often perceived as pleasurable. The best way to know about something is through culture and the most persuasive way to believe some traditions is to see them in practice.
Sometimes these traditions can surprise or amaze you. I came across some old traditional game called Sefetlho whereby men thrash each other with sticks and whips.
Whipping varies significantly from culture to culture and in some, like in Ethiopia’s Hamar tribe it is meant to celebrate the transition from childhood to adulthood. Hamar women are subjected to this harsh initiation rite that sees them beaten bloodily until they are left with thick scars on their backs. These women do not care and instead of fleeing, they beg the men to do it repeatedly until everything becomes even bloodier. Hamar women have grown tolerant to pain with their unique culture and they are a living proof that there is a thin line between pain and pleasure.
Now coming back to our own whipping boys. I am not referring to the old underdog Zebras national team that was beaten by every other team. I am referring to groups of men who lashed each other last weekend in front of children, adults and Botswana’s most respected paramount chiefs.
Young men called batlogolo (nephews) and older men called bo-Malome (uncles) played this violent game and were altogether referred to as Borre ba Sefetlho. These gentlemen who can be called Masogwana in Setswana entered the kgotla like the Great Heathen Army of Vikings ready to raid Anglo-Saxon England in medieval times.
Unlike the Vikings, these men bore no axes nor knives, but they had with them swinging sticks and swooshing whips in the air. The way they sauntered around the kgotla like they owned it, was a clear indicator that we were in for some show of violence. In most games there is always some sort of alert for participants to begin, but these men had none of that, but rather started whipping each other non-stop. It was worth noting that this was not just a random beating that each person had to face his opponent. The way they moved around as they received lashes was also a sign of skill and practice. This game is more of a sport called fencing than martial arts. In Olympic fencing, two competitors fight using swords and win points by making contact. For Sefetlho these gentlemen were not making contact, but rather making impact.
In most professional games, there is a referee or umpire and they are solely responsible for enforcing the laws of the game. In the game of Sefetlho old men also know as uncles are responsible for calming the situation down because whenever things get heated up between batlogolo, uncles (bo-Malome) intervene so that the game can be played fairly.
In every game there is always that reckless player who does not abide by the rules and there was one young man who loved the game so much that he could not stop even when his uncles were shouting “Tshere!”. This man loved getting hit and the more you hit him the more he charged up with energy. Unlike the Hamar women where they expose the bare skin of their backs, Sefetlho men had a load of clothing underneath to minimise the pain at ‘impact’.
As much as they loved getting whipped, they were aware that too much pain could become unbearable. Another observation from the game is that whatever the situation, opponents do not hit each other on the face. Kgosikgolo Ya Balete Mosadi Seboko, Kgosikgolo Ya Bahurutshe Kebinatshwene Mosielele, Kgosikgolo Ya Batlokwa Puso Gaborone and other chiefs were watching these boys transform into men.
The sound of the whip cracking through the kgotla was the only one that could be heard and it felt like we had been teleported to the slavery era where the masters wielded a mean whip. The show runner gently asked the whipping boys of Sefetlho to kindly leave the field, but these men did not want to stop, the game was just way too ecstatic for them despite the pain. Slowly they left the field unconvincingly, but the rascal among the crowd (ngwana o tlhogo tona) did not want to stop and the uncles had to retrieve him because to him the pain just felt so good.
All in all, as I watched those men hit each other with whips, I realised that deep down I wanted to get in there and participate. I am not a friend of pain, but during that moment, I wanted to experience that pain that looked so gratifying based on what I saw from those men.